


Worship

by collectiveobsession



Series: Falling Slowly [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 14:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20409052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectiveobsession/pseuds/collectiveobsession
Summary: Evelyn Trevelyan is all too much. She is too strong, too wild, but also too soft and too delicate. She is so much more than he deserves, and he can’t ignore the niggling thought that she at least deserves a bed for this. A huge bed with silk sheets and rose petals, a roaring fire in the hearth and an attentive lover to cater to her every desire. A whole, undamaged man to worship her.He is not whole and he is certainly damaged, but Cullen does know how to worship.





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

> The famous desk sex scene ahead :)

Fucking the Inquisitor on his desk is not how Cullen imagines his first time with her.

Sure, he’s imagined this very same scenario more times than he cares to admit, but didn’t _truly_ think that this would ever happen. There is something about this woman that has changed him, made him throw caution to the wind and operate on feeling rather than thinking. A dangerous quality, but he stores that in the back of his mind to examine later (or perhaps not). Now, he has more important matters on – _in_ – his hands.

Cullen digs his fingers into her thighs, mouth moving against hers in a frantic rhythm. He feels her hands slide from his shoulders and tug at his hair, gripping where it begins to curl at the nape of his neck (a favorite feature, she’s told him before). Her nails scrape against the sensitive skin behind his ears and his hips buck unconsciously. He feels her smile against his lips at the reaction.

Evelyn Trevelyan is all too much. She is too strong, too wild, but also too soft and too delicate. She is so much more than he deserves, and he can’t ignore the niggling thought that she at least deserves a bed for this. A huge bed with silk sheets and rose petals, a roaring fire in the hearth and an attentive lover to cater to her every desire. A whole, undamaged man to worship her.

He is not whole and he is certainly damaged, but Cullen _does_ know how to worship.

He must have shaken his head minutely in his thoughts and Evie stops for a moment. Her breath is hot against his cheek and he leans in for more, entranced by the feeling of her, but she leans away further. She waits until he meets her eyes to cock her head, inquiring.

“Is this all right?”

His fingers toy with the hem of her doublet and he doesn’t answer for a moment. She senses his hesitation and he sighs heavily, worried he’s ruined the mood with his internal struggle.

“I feel like I should be ravishing you in a bed, at least.”

She grins, a wide, toothy thing that dimples her cheeks. Her silverite eyes sparkle with mischief as the smile turns into something more wicked.

“Oh, I fully intend on having you in the bed, too.”

His stomach swoops in the most delicious way and he barely suppresses his groan as his breeches tighten. Maker, this woman will surely be the death of him. She grinds her pelvis against him again and he has the primitive thought to just _take her now_, but he has waited too long for this to fuck her for three minutes and be done.

Cullen recalls, in a distant memory he can barely conjure with his hands drifting towards her breasts, that Evelyn had told him sex in the Circle was always a quick and rather unsatisfying affair. Not only does he desperately want to make this last, he also wants to sate her until she cannot move. Cullen’s stomach swoops then burns at the image of her, naked, sweaty, and completely undone beneath him.

Evelyn begins pulling at the buckles of her armor in a surprisingly deft manner. He is sure that had she been decked out in her battlemage ensemble, he would have already taken a dagger to the ties. He smiles: the thought of cutting her out of her clothing makes his cock stiffen. _Maybe another time…_

Cullen is brought out of his reverie by the sound of his breastplate clattering to the floor. They both freeze, worried any patrolling guard might investigate the noise. After a brief, tense minute, they lock eyes and grin. Evie resumes her mission to remove his armor and his hands find the buttons of her doublet, fingers slipping against delicate silk as he undoes them as calmly as he can manage. He’d much prefer to tear it apart.

Cullen finally gets each of the tricky buttons unfastened and glides his hands against the smooth expanse of her belly, thumbs grazing the edge of her breast band. Evelyn’s fingers clamp onto his shoulders, a sharp inhale as he barely grazes the soft underside of her breast. His eyes meet hers as he hovers over the top edge, tugging down gently in a silent request for permission. She swallows and lets out a quiet whine, locking her legs around his waist, bringing his hips flush with hers. He can feel the heat of her through both of their breeches.

His thoughts scatter and, yet again, Cullen finds it difficult to remember _why_ he isn’t inside of her yet.

Her breasts are far more magnificent than he’d dreamed. Full, round, and heavy, he cups one in his hand and stares with a certain reverence he usually reserves for prayer. She fills his palm perfectly and Cullen thinks her breast is the softest thing he’s ever felt. He slowly swipes his thumb over her nipple and she digs her nails into his shoulders again. The smooth skin puckers to a stiff peak and before he can second guess himself, Cullen presses his mouth to the bud. The resulting noise, a wanton gasp from deep in her chest, is almost enough to undo him.

Spurred by her reaction, Cullen fondles her other breast as his tongue laves her soft skin. His teeth gently graze the sensitive peak and the choked moan she emits has to be the most incredible noise he’s ever heard. He grins, enjoying the taste of her skin, but wanting his mouth further south…

Cullen pulls away from her and stands, relishing the whimper of frustration Evelyn makes. She is a vision, an absolute goddess on a pedestal with her doublet open, breasts hanging heavy from his attention, skin flushed. She is somehow also sin incarnate, lips swollen and red: a siren beckoning him to his ultimate demise.

He scoots her to the very edge of the desk by her hips and she makes an appreciative noise, trying to find his lips with hers, but he has other plans. Cullen unbuttons her breeches, urges her to wiggle out of them, and pulls them down. He kneels and makes quick work of her boots, tossing them to the side with little ceremony, her breeches and smalls shortly following.

Now completely bare before him, Evelyn turns shy, closing her knees together and biting her lip. She avoids eye contact with him and he can see her shoulders hunch as she tries to hide. Though everything in him is on fire and screaming for release, Cullen remains patient. He is almost sure that this is the first time anyone has seen her completely nude in a sexual situation. He is positive no one has done to her what he has _ached_ to do. And so, he waits, rubbing circular patterns on her knees with his thumbs.

Finally, she looks at him, an embarrassed blush painting her face. He takes one of her hands gripping the edge of the desk, laces their fingers together, and kisses it tenderly.

“Trust me.” Cullen whispers, urging her to let herself go. He’ll stop if she requests it, and he knows she is aware of this. She searches his face for a moment and nods, steeling herself to give everything to him. He gives her a crooked smile and nudges hers knees, willing them apart.

She is beautiful, of course. His fingers trace the outside of her thigh, tickling her, but he can hear the hitch in her breath. Evie widens her thighs, maybe unconsciously, and he feels her feet at his sides.

His fingers roam closer to her heat and she is noticeably agitated, shifting her hips, trying to lean into his light touch, but he always dances out of reach. He smiles again, looking up at her and taking pride in how utterly perturbed she is at his teasing.

“_Cullen_,” Evie begs “_Ple-!_”

Her plea turns into a moan the second his lips cover her center. Cullen hasn’t had much experience with this act, but he knows that that sound is the best he could have hoped for. He swirls his tongue around her opening, basking in the warm, musky taste of her. He can dimly hear her panting his name, encouragement and cursing all at the same time. It isn’t until Cullen brings his tongue upward towards her pearl that she almost screams.

He swirls around the firm nub, pride rushing through him as her fingers rake his scalp, gripping his hair in order to keep him right where she wants him. His fingers skim below where his tongue teases, gently stroking the wetness of her folds, dipping in further with each pass. One finger eases inside of her and Evie bucks at the sensation. Cullen glances up at her, meeting her heavily lidded gaze with his own.

One finger turns to two and Cullen is met with little resistance, but she is so delightfully _tight_. He almost forgets what he is doing as he imagines his cock inside of her, all tight, wet heat. He must have hummed at the thought for Evie bucks and gasps, her grip on his hair almost painful. Cullen briefly wonders if he can make her climax on his first try before she’s clenching around his fingers tighter than ever, mouth open in a silent, blissful moan.

He slows, gentling as she comes down from her high and cannot hide the grin on his face. Evie finally opens her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her own mouth and she holds out her arms, fingers grabbing for him.

“Get over here.” She demands and her low tone stokes the fire within him. Evie sits up, hands coming to his belt immediately and Cullen agrees with her urgency. Her lips find his and any reservations Cullen has about her wanting to kiss him after _that_ bleed away as Evie purrs at her own taste. He helps her get ties of his breeches open and she wastes no time in wrapping a hand around his length.

Cullen is impossibly hard, probably the hardest he’d ever been in his life, if he’s being completely honest. The first feel of her hand on him are incredible; truly his dreams did nothing to compare to the real thing. It is so incredibly difficult to concentrate on not coming right now as she explores, gliding her hand up and down the length of him, torturously slow. Evie swipes a thumb across the tip, gathering the obvious moisture and he sees a flicker of her smile before clenching his eyes shut. He knows he won’t last much longer and pulls his shirt off, the last remaining barrier between them.

They stare at each for another moment, as though waiting for the other to end it now. While Cullen would obviously _die_ before voluntarily stopping on his own behalf, he gives Evelyn another opportunity to end things. She releases his cock and trails a hand up his naked chest, fingernails dancing at the litter of scars across the planes. She brushes through the golden curls at his pectorals and then she’s going up and up to curl around his neck, bringing him to her lips.

Evie wraps her legs around his waist, hooking her heels together behind him, urging him closer. His cock just brushes her slick flesh and he’s nearly panting. All it takes is one whispered word in his ear, _please_, and he is inside of her.

Cullen stills, maybe halfway inside of her before he’s met with any resistance. She clamps around him, unfamiliar with the intrusion, and he takes a deep, steadying breath to remain still to allow her to adjust. It is the sweetest kind of torture he can imagine, and he cannot conjure any other experiences that could even remotely compare to this. Evelyn is tighter, wetter, and hotter than he could have ever dreamed and he tries to commit the sensation to memory as best he can. When she begins to wiggle experimentally, shifting her hips to accommodate more of him, he has to clench his eyes shut to hold onto his remaining thin shred of control.

“Cullen,” She says and his eyes fly open to meet hers, “_move_.” She punctuates the word with a sharp snap of her hips and they both groan at the sensation.

Maker, this woman will be the death of him.

He starts slowly, still trying to rein in his last grasps of restraint. It is obvious that this is not what Evelyn wants as she rocks her hips faster, out of sync with him, but he is trying so hard not to just _fuck_ her. He wants to worship her like she deserves. He wants to coax every little sound from her, commit every inch of her skin to memory. He wants to look back on this time in his darkest of moments and remember what it feels like to adore this woman.

Cullen clutches to her hipbones, doing his best to cease her movements and allow him to lead. His brow furrows in concentration as she tightens around him and whines.

“Evie, let me-” His plea comes out in a short gasp, broken off as she bucks against him and her breasts press up against his chest.

“Cullen,” She says, waiting until his eyes meet hers, “this will not be the last time.” Her silver eyes flicker with mischief, “So I suggest that you _ride me_.”

Whatever remaining shred of control Cullen possesses snaps right then.

He growls and digs his fingers harder into her hips, pride swelling at the breathy whimper the action elicits from her. Evie presses her breasts further into him, nails clawing into his shoulders as she rests her forehead against his collar bone. Cullen pulls out of her as far as her legs will allow him and then plunges back into her, over and over. Evie’s sharp cries echo in the tower, mixed with the slick sound of their bodies meeting. Cullen knows he should care about being overheard (for surely all of Skyhold must hear them), but finds it a waste of energy when he clearly has something infinitely better to spend his time doing.

Evie’s hands curl into his hair, scraping against his scalp so deliciously that he shivers. He knows that she is close from the way her inner walls begin to flutter around him, tightening at her imminent release. He silently thanks Andraste as he knows he won’t last much longer.

“Cullen,” He has never heard his name sound so desperate and it is almost like she is praying to him, “_please_.”

He is almost worried to hurt her as his pace becomes almost relentless. His hand drifts downwards between them, finding the swollen pearl at the apex of her thighs. He twitches his fingers against, finding a rhythm that matches his thrusts and it feels like seconds, yet an eternity, before she crescendos. It is more violent, more magnificent this time. Evie’s body nearly freezes, muscles seizing as her walls tense around him. He can feel her brow furrow against his shoulder, lips moving as she pants through the orgasm. Moments later, his own release floods through him, white heat rushing through his veins, filling her with a choked gasp. He thinks halfheartedly that he should have pulled out beforehand, but the thought disappears for later consideration.

They stay there, catching their breaths in out of sync pants. Cullen brings a hand up to her tousled waves, cupping the back of her head and pushing a gentle kiss to her forehead. He can feel her smile against his collar bone at the action and finds his own pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Evie pulls away first, sweat gathered at her brow, but her smile is glorious. She leans up, pecking him on the mouth, a chaste contrast to where they are still connected below. Cullen trails a hand down the length of her spine, fingers lazily caressing her rear. She hums approval and nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck, her eyelashes tickling his skin.

Cullen can feel his knees buckle a bit from the exertion and she huffs, pulling away to look at the ceiling as though it has personally offended her. He quirks a brow at her expression.

“What?” She purses her lips at his question.

“How can you possibly expect to climb up that ladder after _that?_” Cullen laughs, trying to ignore how his cock stirs inside of her at the movement. He takes her chin in his hands and kisses her soundly on the mouth. He kisses her face from cheeks to ear lobe and massages the skin between his lips, her responding shiver and surge of wetness encouraging him further.

“Who says _you_ need to climb?”

His reports lie forgotten on the floor, yet he cannot recall a better day spent in his office.


End file.
